Harry the Curious
by The Next Man
Summary: ABANDONED What would have happened if just a tiny little thing was different? What would happen if Harry tried to find out more about his parents? Well, let's see... ABANDONED
1. Chapter 1: A Simple Question

**A/N: This is a story to see how much I can realistically 'fix' from the Harry Potter series with the smallest possible turning point. The point in particular is that Harry is more curious than his canon counterpart. I'll give you some background in this note, before moving on to the first point where it changes.**

**So Harry, being curious, likes to know about everything. This leads him to become more intelligent than his normal self, though he has to hide it, because he's locked up when he gets better grades than Dudley. However, his curiosity does lead him to engage in conversations with other kids in order to find out about them. They don't hang out with him, because Dudley's gang will beat them up if they do, but they all like him; partially because his curiosity is so innocent, but mostly because he assumes everyone else is as curious as he; and therefore has no qualms about telling his own secrets. In fact, he's extremely uncomfortable with secrets, and has none, except from the Dursleys. He becomes an avid reader, often sneaking books home that he's borrowed from teachers, and would get wonderful grades if he didn't throw all his tests.**

**None of this would show up, until the fourth chapter of the first book. For your convenience, I'll skip forward a little and bold the moment that it changes. Let's begin, shall we?**

* * *

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh - took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even - but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before - and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching him sadly. "Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

**Harry finally found his voice. "You said that you knew my parents?" he asked, and Hagrid nodded. "Can you – can you tell me about them?"**

"Well…" Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. I dunno that I'm really tha best person to ask 'bout that. I din' really get ter see 'em ver' much, see."

"Who would be the best people to ask?" Harry pressed, eager to find out all he could about his parents, from a source more trustworthy than the Dursleys.

"Lemme think for a mom'…" Hagrid leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Lesse'… there's Remus Lupin, 'e was a friend o' yer dad's. And then Professor Snape; that's the potions professor at Hogwarts; he was close ter yer mum. Then there was…" Hagrid shuddered. "Black. Sirius Black… but ye won't be wantin' ter know about 'im."

"No, really, I do," Harry assured the big man.

"e' was a traitor," Hagrid growled. "e' betrayed yer parents ter You-Know-Who. They would never ha' been found if 'e kept his mouth shut, but 'e told You-Know-Who. Then 'e killed another one o' yer dad's mates, Peter Pettigrew. Blasted 'im an' twelve muggles right out o' the street…

"But enough o' that, 'arry. Le's get back to Hogwarts."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

* * *

**A/N: At this point, it returns to the text of the book for a while.**


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting Draco

**A/N: I've had a highly positive response to the first part of Harry the Curious. Thank you to the nine people who set it as a favorite or put it on story alert. Because I have the next part already written, I'm putting it up now... and here it is! Merely a day after finding out that he's a wizard, Harry visits Diagon Alley to collect his school supplies. Of course, he retains his curiosity. This starts partway through chapter five. Once again, point of divergence is in bold.**

* * *

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

**"Brooms fly, right?" Harry asked, wondering if that bit of folklore was correct.**

"Of course they do," the blonde boy drawled. "You're a muggleborn, aren't you?"

"Not really," Harry said. "My parents were killed by Vold – er, You-Know-Who, so I was raised by my muggle relatives. But my real parents were a witch and wizard."

"I see," said the boy, raising an eyebrow. "What's your name, anyway?"

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said casually. "How about you?"

But the other boy had fallen silent. "Are you really?" he asked, seeming to be somewhat short of breath."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, I'm the Minister of Magic. Yes, of course I'm Harry Potter! Trust me to know my own name."

The other boy struggled to hold in a chuckle. "Well, it's good to meet you, Potter. I'm Malfoy – Draco Malfoy. Since you were raised by muggles, you probably need a quick run-down on the world, don't you?"

Harry was somewhat surprised by Draco's abrupt change of subject, but then again, it was always good to learn more, especially about the world he would be spending the rest of his life in. "sure, that would be great!" he said.

Draco smiled, though it bore more than a passing resemblance to a sneer. Harry got the impression that the blonde didn't smile often. "Well, first of all, you need to understand the difference between purebloods, halfbloods, and muggleborns," he began. "Purebloods are wizards with no muggle blood, or at least not for a long ways back. Technically you're pureblood if your ancestors are wizards for two generations back; parents and grandparents; but most purebloods have much finer ancestry that that. The Malfoy family, for example, goes back almost 700 years, wizards all."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "If your family is that old, you must be pretty rich, right?"

Draco grinned, a genuine smile. "Oh yes. Almost as rich as yours, Potter."

Harry wondered idly how much money was actually in his vault. "I think I can guess about muggleborns; they'd be wizards born to muggle parents."

"Of course," Draco agreed. "And then halfbloods are in between; you're a halfblood, because your mother's parents were muggles. If you marry a pureblood witch, though, your children would be purebloods again. Though most of us would still look down on them, because they do have muggle blood."

Harry thought about this for a moment. "Let me guess," he said dryly. "If you know how closely related to a muggle you are, you're too closely related?"

Draco actually laughed at this. Like the first smile, it seemed as though he rarely did it, but as though he really needed to. "An apt description! Yes, that's about it."

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the Draco.

"See you," Harry waved, and went to go find Hagrid.

They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

* * *

**A/N: Again, back to the text.**


	3. Chapter 3: On the Train

**A/N: Well, here's the next part. It'll be a long one, be warned; I'm trying to cover the whole of chapter six with this, and there's quite a bit that's different. There will be scene break lines in between the points where the story follows the normal text. Let's get going, right as Harry asks Mrs. Weasley for help. As always, point of divergence is in bold.**

**Now, some people might think I plagiarized ****in this chapter, so let me try to head them off now. I used a scene which, although I originally believed I came up with on my own, I have since been told is extremely similar to one from another (amazing) story, Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality. When I wrote this scene I didn't have that story in mind at all, but upon reflection I was inspired by it to write Neville going to the prefect's carriage. Therefore, I offer an apology, a thank you to limping llama, and a pointer to HP&MoR, as it is in fact very good.**

**Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationalityis right here: s/5782108/1/Harry_Potter_and_the_Methods_of_Rationality**

**And can also be found at hpmor dot com, where you can read the full story, or download a PDF, ePub, or Mobi version of the story.**

* * *

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts?" Ron's new, too."

"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is – the thing is, I don't know how to-"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop -"

"**Thank you," Harry interrupted. He still had ten minutes left, and he wanted to learn about these people, know that he knew how to get to the platform. He would spend a little time talking to them and board in a few minutes. "What's your name?"**

"Molly Weasley," the red-haired woman said. "This is my son Ron, and my daughter, Ginny."

"I'm Harry – Harry Potter," he said. Immediately, Ginny squealed and hid behind her mother. That wouldn't do; even if he had defeated a dark wizard, he had been _one_ at the time. Surely, it was a coincidence, and the same thing would have happened with any other baby, all else being the same. Thinking quickly, Harry formed a plan to get Ginny to stop being in awe of him. It was probably a good idea anyway, and besides, he really did want to know.

"Ginny?" he called, and she peeked around her mother. "I… well, I didn't grow up in the wizarding world. There's probably loads of stuff I don't know that you do, and I probably need to know most of it to function in society. Would you… would you write to me, and teach me that stuff? I'll write back about Hogwarts," he added.

Ginny gaped at him, open-mouthed, as did her mother. "What?" he asked, pretending not to know why. "It's true." Ginny finally nodded wordlessly.

"Great!" Harry exclaimed. "I'd better get to the platform now, the train leaves in five minutes." He rolled his trolley over to the barrier and pushed gently. There was a moment of resistance, then his cart slipped through the barrier, just seeming to disappear as it entered the stone. Watching his arms disappear was creepy, but Harry refused to close his eyes. Then again, the speed with which he hastened through the barrier was not entirely due to fear of being seen walking into a brick wall.

He looked around. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said _Hogwarts Express, Eleven O'Clock_. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

* * *

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

**Harry leaned out, trying to see what was going on, but he couldn't see the Weasley family.**

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Yes," came Ginny's voice, smugly. "Harry Potter, and _I'm_ going to be his pen-pal."

Harry could only imagine the looks on the twins' faces until they burst out laughing, and one of them said "Good one, Gin-gin…"

"It's not one of your jokes," he heard Mrs. Weasley snap. "Harry asked her to write to him about wizarding traditions and things like that, since he was raised as a muggle."

"Well, never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern. "I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the

train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and

their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved. Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy

came in. "Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full." Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron." The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut

behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh – I thought it might be a joke, like Fred and George always do," said Ron. "And have you really got – you know…" He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who…"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well - I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.

"Er - yes, I think so," said Ron. "Well, I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already, right? Or do you not get wands and stuff until your eleven too?"

"Some people get wands early, but you're not allowed to do magic out of school," Ron said. "Not 'till your of age, anyway. I heard _you_ went to live with Muggles. What're they like?"

"Horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

* * *

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?" When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He began to leave, but Harry was struck by an idea and called "Wait!" the boy turned hopefully. "The prefect's car is at the front of the train," Harry told him. "You should ask one of them for help." The boy nodded thankfully and left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway…" He had just raised his 'wand when the compartment door slid open again.

The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron. "_And_ we sent him off to the prefects. What're you going around the train again for?"

"He said that it wasn't a prefect's job to find missing pets," said the boy – Neville – tearfully.

Harry's eyebrows narrowed. "What were the colors on his robes?" he demanded.

"Er…" said Neville. "Red and gold, I think."

"But those are Gryffindor colors!" the bushy-haired girl protested.

"And that matters?" Harry snapped angrily. "Come on, Neville. I'm sure they won't deny the _Boy-Who-Lived_ help." He left the compartment with Neville in tow, as Hermione trailed behind, still protesting that a Gryffindor prefect wouldn't do that.

Harry returned to the compartment shortly afterwards, alone. "What happened?" Ron demanded immediately.

"Well, first Neville pointed out the prefect who refused to help him, and it was _your_ brother," Harry said, settling into his seat once more. Ron look annoyed but not entirely surprised.

"Of course, who else? Percy's very strict about his duty. I bet he said," and here Ron assumed an exaggerated straight-backed posture similar to Percy's, "'A prefect's duties include finding lost _items_, but lost _pets_ are the student's own responsibility.'" Harry was quite impressed; Ron had gotten down to the word. "Then what happened?"

"well, he – Percy, you said his name was? Percy refused to help me, too, so I asked a Ravenclaw prefect," Harry said brightly. "He didn't even look up, just cast something at Neville, who seemed to know where his toad was. After he found it – went straight there, too, I really want to learn that spell – Hermione and I went back to our compartments. She seemed to have something on her mind," he added.

"Who's Hermione?" Ron asked, confused.

"The bushy-haired girl who was helping Neville. Did you know that it's possible to train yourself to a nearly photographic memory? Because she did."

"What's a photographic memory?" Ron was very impressed after Harry explained. "I wish I could do that," he said wistfully. "It would make school easy, I'm sure… anyway, what's your Quidditch team?"

"Er – I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the

world -" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once; it was the pale boy from the robe shop, Draco. "Hallo, Draco," Harry said brightly.

"Hey Harry," he said. "This is Crabbe and Goyle." The boy gestured to the tree trunks – to the boys, Harry mentally corrected himself – on either side of him. Draco glared at Ron. "No need to ask who _you_ are, though. My father told me that all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Ron turned as red as his hair and seemed to lose his voice.

"Please don't insult my friends, Draco," Harry requested. "After all, I'm not insulting your friends, and I can think of some choice ones."

"Yeah," said Ron, still red, "now go away, _Malfoy_."

"I'm not going to force him to leave, Ron," Harry said.

"WHAT?" Ron blurted, as Draco watched with amusement. "Don't you know who this _is?"_

"Yes Ron," Harry said dryly. "In case you didn't notice, I called him by his name without being introduced."

Malfoy reentered the conversation. "As fascinating as this may be, Weasley," he drawled, "I need to speak to future Lord Potter." He stepped outside, clearly expecting Harry to follow. After he did, Draco continued. "You'll soon find out that some families are much better than others. I can help you there." He held out his hand to shake Harry's.

Harry considered this quickly. He didn't want to alienate Ron, who seemed like a decent fellow, and if he took Draco's offer than he would almost certainly lose the possibility of Ron's friendship. But he also wanted to be friends with Draco, and rejecting the offer would also be unwise. Draco did seem to be a bit more mature than Ron, though; maybe he would take it better? No, on reflection, the best choice would be some sort of middle ground. If only there was one… ah!

"Don't take this the wrong way, Draco," Harry said politely, "but I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself. I wouldn't say no to some lessons on the noble houses, though; you know, the whole future Lord thing and that stuff."

Draco shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll see you at school, we can work out a time for me to tell you about that then, okay?" Harry nodded, and Draco turned to go.

"How can you stand that git!" Ron complained the moment the door closes. He had clearly heard everything.

"I don't know which house I'll be in yet and I'm rather _not _be mortal enemies with someone I'll be sleeping in the same room as for seven years," Harry said reasonably. "Besides, it's always better to be polite."

"I suppose," Ron said uncertainly. "But be warned that there's no hope for me being friends with a _Malfoy_, our families have a blood feud with each other.'

Before Harry could respond, though, a voice echoed through the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

* * *

**A/N: That's it for this chapter, which is far longer than I'd planned.**


	4. Chapter 4: The Sorting Ceremony

**A/N: Hello again! I'd just like to thank all of my wonderful readers; I've had an overwhelmingly positive response to this story (for a new author, anyway), and I wouldn't be spending as much time as I have on it without you. Again, thank you all.**

**This next part occurs shortly before the Sorting ceremony.**

* * *

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. **Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry scanned the teachers sitting at the High Table.**

In the middle sat Dumbledore, who he recognized from the chocolate frog card, and Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet, twice the size of a normal one. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a man who, with his long black hair, hooked nose, and pale skin, was surely Professor Snape… Snape looked past Quirrell straight into Harry's eyes, and his lip began to curl. Harry smiled widely at the man who he hoped would tell hm about his mother, and the professor's eyes widened. Harry wondered why, vaguely, but then his gaze was drawn to the hat Professor McGonagall placed on a four-legged stool in front of the first years. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty, and Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing - noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

* * *

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the Hat on her head.

**"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the Hat. Ron sighed.**

"She seems nice," he said to Harry, "but I feel like it would be overwhelming to deal with her all the time. Harry could only nod, but then as a horrible though struck him.

What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson", then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last - "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. A good mind too. There's talent, oh goodness yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, that's interesting… so where shall I put you?"

_I don't care,_ thought Harry with a mental shrug. _Draco is in Slytherin, Neviile's in Hufflepuff, Hermione in Ravenclaw, Ron assures me that all Weasleys are Gryffindors… I'll have friends wherever I go._

A dry chuckle. "Sounds like Hufflepuff loyalty, that. But no, your loyalty, while considerable, is actually your weakest attribute. You have a tendency to keep your feelings bottled up even from your friends, too, try to work on that. You're quite curious, though, unusually so for someone like you… it all comes down to two choices, I'd say, Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Any preference?"

Harry considered this, oblivious to the rising whispers coming from outside the Hat's velvety darkness. _Gryffindor,_ he finally decided. _Ron's right, Hermione would be overwhelming._

"Good choice," the Hat told him. "You'll do quite well in GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry took off the Hat and walked to the Gryffindor table, noticing that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a few moments later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"


	5. Chapter 5: Snape and the Potions Class

**A/N: Not much is told about Harry's schedule in first year, aside from the fact that he doesn't have potions until Friday, when he has a double period. Therefore I have no way of knowing where into the story I should insert this part, especially since events are mostly glossed over until that first potions lesson. This does, however, begin on the first night of classes.**

**Now, as far as classes go, a surprising amount will stay the same. We know that Harry has Herbology with Hufflepuff and Potions with Slytherin. If I recall correctly (and please tell me if I don't) he had Charms with Ravenclaw, but I don't believe anything of the other classes were mentioned. It's unlikely that there were classes which had only one House at a time, so I have taken the following math-ups: Gryffindor has Transfiguration, Defense, and Herbology with Hufflepuff, History and Astronomy with Ravenclaw, and Potions and Charms with Slytherin. I think that this works out well, even with Hermione and Neville in different Houses. Harry will still be present with Neville for the boggart lesson third year, Neville will be able to have Hermione's help in Potions, and both Ron and Harry can goof off in History while Hermione takes notes for them. Of course, they would goof off anyway, but still. If anyone sees any problems with this, please enlighten me and I'll try to fix it.**

**I apologize for the overly long author's note, but I felt that I had to tell about the classes. Yell at me if you like. And now, onto the story!**

* * *

The next day, after dinner, Harry went in search of Professor Snape. Ron warned him against it ("Fred told me, unless it was George, that Snape _hates_ all Gryffindors. We'll have to deal with him in class, but don't go _looking_ for him!"), but he waved it off. Harry hadn't learned the twisting shape of Hogwarts yet, but eventually, asking help from portraits, he found his way into the dungeons and to the professor's door.

It was made of some sort of smooth black wood, with the grain barely visible, and marked with a simple 'Snape', writing in silver letters. Harry hesitated for only a moment, admiring the lettering and wondering how it opened without a handle, before he knocked on it. There was a moment's pause, presumably while the professor wondered who was there, before a curt voice said "Enter," and the door swung open.

Professor Snape was sitting in wooden armchair, reading a book that appeared to be in Latin; Harry wished he knew what the title, _O__mnem __E__ffugiat __V__enena__,_ meant. His eyes narrowed when he saw Harry in the door. "Potter," he snarled. "Why are you here?"

"Professor I… I heard that you were close to my mother," Harry said carefully. The professor was clearly in a bad mood, and he didn't want to make it any worse. "I'd like to know about her. Could you… could you tell me…" his throat seemed to block at the thought, that maybe, just maybe, he could know where he came from. Harry was curious about _everything_, though he had learned to hide just how much, as people tend to be off put. And now, with such a powerful subject, his voice failed him.

Snape's eyes softened slightly as Harry spoke. "Tell you about her?" he finished when it was clear that Harry was unable to, and the boy nodded. "Hm… very well.

"First, I should tell you that while I was Lily's friend, perhaps her best friend, for almost nine years, we had a great argument at the end of our fifth year, for which she never quite forgave me. We eventually reconciled; she wanted me to be your godfather, in fact; but I can't tell you much about her personal life after her fifth year. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded, and the professor seemed to notice that he still stood in the doorway. "Oh, sit down!" he snapped, waving his hand carelessly and conjuring another armchair which Harry sat it. "Now then…

Your mother was remarkable in many ways. She was wonderful at potions, and one of the best at charms work I've ever met. I think that if she had lived, she could have surpassed even Professor Flitwick, who is currently the accepted authority on the subject…"

Harry had a lot to think about as he crept back to his dormitory two hours later, clutching the note Professor Snape had given him. His mother had been brilliant, it seemed, at nearly every subject. The only place she had real trouble with was Transfiguration, which worried him. But Mum had truly excelled at Charms and Potions, so much that she was considered a prodigy at both, even more so than Snape. The professor had mentioned that he was one of the three most prominent potions masters in the world at present; the other two were his own teacher, Professor Slughorn, and an Italian woman called Mistress Pozione. However, he claimed, Mum could have surpassed any of them.

Harry had decided that he had better put forth real effort into both of those subjects. When he had told Professor Snape this, just before leaving, he had been delighted, and recommended several books on potions which weren't course books. _The Ingredients_ _Guide_ was the definitive work on the properties of various potions ingredients and how they interacted, while _Small but Important_ was a book Snape himself had written about how things like the direction of stirring and other such minor parts of potions were fundamental. Harry would be taking them out of the library tomorrow.

The professor had, however, been unable to help much with charms work, confessing that h e had never been much better than average at it. Professor Flitwick, would surely be willing to help Lily Evans' son, as she had been a favorite student. Harry would ask after his first Charms class the next day. As for his worries about Transfiguration, it turned out that his father had been excellent at it. Harry had, however, not failed to notice the hate behind Snape's eyes when he mentioned James Potter. He decided that Snape clearly had been adversaries with his dad, and would therefore not be a good source of information. His argument with Mum had probably been over Dad, in fact.

He stifled a yawn, and froze as he saw Mrs. Norris staring at him. She whisked away a moment later, which meant that Filch couldn't be far behind. He had a note, of course, but that might not mean anything to the grouchy caretaker. Harry broke into a run, and just barely managed to step through the Fat Lady's portrait before he saw Filch through the portrait hole. He couldn't hold back a grin at the expression of rage on his face when the Fat Lady closed on the irate caretaker, and refused to let him in. Pleasant thoughts in his head, Harry slept easily that night.

* * *

_Dear Mr. Lupin,_

_ My name is Harry Potter. I have heard that you knew my parents, particularly my father. I hope that you will be willing to tell me about him; anything you wish to tell me, anything at all. Also, as I grew up with Muggles, any books you can recommend to me with things it would be useful to know, especially about Charms and Transfiguration. I'd also like to know more about my dad's other friends; I originally asked Hagrid about it, but he only mentioned you, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black. I'd actually like to know about Black specifically; Hagrid refused to discuss it._

_ Harry Potter_

* * *

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. **Harry approached him after class to ask about good books on Charms, explaining that he wanted to live up to his mother's memory, and had received enthusiastic recommendations for books called **_**The Art of Charming**_** and **_**A Guide to Spell Interactions.**_

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time.

After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Harry had made any difference to his match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone silvery and gave Harry a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start. And thanks to Professor Flitwick's recommendations and, he suspected, his desire to live up to his Mum and Dad's legacies, he did quite well in Transfiguration and Charms.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them - we'll be able to see if it's true."

"I'm sure that's not true. He seemed okay when I talked to him on Monday, anyway. Still, I wish McGonagall favored us, " said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_ I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_ Hagrid_

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled'Yes, please, see you later'on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Do you suppose that you will do as well as your mother, Potter?"

Harry had read through most of both books Snape had recommended, as well as all of his textbook, and smiled. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'm quite confident." To his right, Ron flinched, but Snape just smiled coldly, and moved on.

Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. "Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry strained to remember this. It was a draught, not a normal potions, he knew that. And it had something to do with death... or was it sleeping? Ah ha! "The draught of living death, sir," he said, and, remembering another tidbit from _Small but Important,_ added "but if you pour the infusion onto the asphodel rather than adding the asphodel to the infusion, then it'll be poisonous unless you add unicorn horn as well."

Snape nodded approvingly, and Ron looked flabbergasted. "Perhaps you might amount to something after all, Potter. Where would you look for a bezoar?"

Bezoars, those were stone that could serve as antidotes, right? But he couldn't remember where. "In the potions cupboard," he said cheekily, and most of the class chuckled, though they were silenced instantly by Snape's glare.

"If you did not have access to the school's supplies. _Or_ your own," he added as Harry opened his mouth to say his bag.

Harry thought about this for a moment longer, and remembered. "The stomach of a goat."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane; Weasley?" Harry had been about to answer that they were the same, but fell silent when Snape turned to the redhead.

Ron seemed aghast to be put on the spot. "Um, I, um…" he stammered, and Professor Snape sneered.

"Does anyone know the answer to Weasley's dilemma? Malfoy?"

Draco smiled widely. "Monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same plant, sir, and are also called aconite."

"Weasley, give your seat to Malfoy," Snape ordered. "I will not have the only two people in this class who might possibly be competent hampered by working with idiots. Malfoy, you and Potter will work together throughout the year. Weasley, you will work with Finnegan."

Things went badly for the rest of the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Draco and Harry, who he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Theodore Nott had somehow managed to melt his cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Nott, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" Nott whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose. "Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Blaise Zabini. Then he rounded on Seamus Finnegan and Ron, who had been working next to them. "You – Weasley - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's a point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Draco kicked him behind their cauldron. "Don't," he muttered. "Snape is always in a bad mood right after someone messes up."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were bouncing. Snape seemed to like him; but he clearly hated the rest of the Gryffindors

"Don't worry about it," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang- back." Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "_Back_, Fang." He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spend half me time chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch 'that old git.' "An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her - Fitch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape hardly liked anyone.

"But he seemed to really hate the rest of the Gryffindors, and not me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "No reason for it! There'd be more reason for him to hate you specifically; he never liked yer dad, you know." But Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot - great with animals."

* * *

**A/N: For those curious, _Omnem Effugiat Venena_ is in fact Latin, and means Unnoticeable Poisons. Not that Snape would actually have done anything, but it's nice to fantasize, right? Pozione is Italian for potion; not particularly inspired, but she'll never be mentioned again, so it doesn't matter.**

**I might eventually be inserting my version of the book(s) into copies of the actual ones, and putting the PDFs up for (free) download. Obviously this will be pointless if not many people read it, so please tell me your interest level in that.**


	6. Chapter 6: Letter and the Remembrall

**A/N: This chapter begins with an immediate divergence, so there's no point in bolding the first line.**

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy who acted like Dudley that he liked, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. It was amazing, really. Despite how much everyone else hated Draco, they had a quite civil relationship. Draco had told him about his views during potions class, and they all seemed repugnant; but the boy himself was quite charming. Some people complained about his attitude, but Draco never acted up in front of Harry; the worst he did was to ignore Ron entirely, which suited Ron fine.

One morning, Harry and Ron spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them cheer. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday, all the houses together. Harry had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else, but was worried. "Just what I always wanted," he lamented. "To make a fool of myself in front of the whole school."

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know people always going on about how good they are at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Malfoy, at least, certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville dragged Hermione and Neville from their respective tables over to the Gryffindor table to ask them about it. It turned out that Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Hermione had been very sympathetic about. He supposed that Mr. Lupin might be in a different country, but he had been hoping to hear from Ginny by now at least.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke. "It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash. "What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Don't do that, Draco," Harry said reproachfully, and Draco sighed before slouching away.

Shortly after that, Harry was delighted by the return of Hedwig, bearing a letter labeled 'Remus J. Lupin'. He snatched it with delight, gave Hedwig a strip of Bacon, and ripped open the letter.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ Thank you for writing to me. I wanted to contact you earlier, as I feel your parents would have wanted me to watch over you and guide you as you grew, but Dumbledore requested that I not, so that you might grow in a normal environment, not corrupted by your fame. _

_ I have been in America for the past ten years, and so I apologize for the delay you likely had in receiving this letter. I would fill up several rolls of parchment describing your father to you, but I fear that your owl would savage me if I tried, and besides, I think there is a more expedient way. I can, now that you've contacted me, return to England. I will come to stay in Hogsmeade, where I can visit you and tell you all about him in person; unless you have any objection, of course, in which case I'll go with the several rolls of parchment. _

_ As far as book recommendations go, I was never quite as good at your father at Transfiguration, and your mother of course outshone all of us at Charms. I wouldn't worry too much about them; however, if you insist, I recommend _Battle Transfiguration_ by Dumbledore himself and _The Book of Transforming_, which you might find interesting._

_ I will, of course, tell you about Peter and Black if you wish. I will save most of this subject for our meeting, if you do desire that; however, as I too find the subject of Black a painful one, I will cover that now. He was a spy for Voldemort, his chief spy on our side, and yet he remained highly trusted by us. He was a consummate actor, so much that he was even made the only person to know your parents' location when they went into hiding with you, to escape Voldemort._

_ (Do not mistake me; your parents were heroes, and would have gladly fought Voldemort to their deaths, but they were unwilling to risk you. When they heard that Voldemort was planning on coming for them, they decided to go into hiding to protect you.)_

_ A mere three days after they disappeared, Voldemort came to your parents' hidden home, where only Black could've revealed them. There is a charm which hides things, which is too complicated to explain here; but suffice to say that without Black's help, Voldemort could have pressed his nose up against your window without seeing you, James, and Lily._

_ After Voldemort was vanquished, Black was revealed as a traitor. Peter went after him, out of his mind with grief, and was killed. Black blew Peter to bits, along with thirteen Muggles. There were enough witnesses that he was sent to Azkaban, the wizarding prison, without trial. He has spent the past ten years there, and will stay for the rest of his life._

_ But enough of that. What do you think of the prospect of meeting me? And don't think that I just want to see James' and Lily's son; I want to know all about you._

_ Remus Lupin_

Harry sat back, emotions whirling within him. He was obviously ecstatic about the idea of meeting with Lupin, and would send a letter back telling him so. But something didn't seem quite right about the whole Black situation.

The facts seemed clear enough. Some secrecy charm had been cast, so only Black could reveal the location, but Black had been a traitor, and thus caused his parents death. But there was something about the story that didn't sit right with Harry. He couldn't tell if there was some inconsistency his mind had seized upon, or something else.

Not able to decide, Harry showed the letter to Ron. "Wow," he commented. " I never knew that about Black. I mean, I knew he hadn't gotten a trial, but I didn't know he was the one who let out your mum and dad's location."

However, Harry was no longer listening. Ron had inadvertently remarked upon what was bothering Harry. _Black hadn't gotten a trial._ Harry had a well-developed sense of justice, as a result of it being denied to him so much by the Dursleys, and had found out quite a bit about it in his muggle days. And one of the things he knew, with a solid, immutable, rock-hard certainty, was that everyone, _everyone_, had a right to a trial.

Now knowing his problem, Harry immediately scribbled down a quick response to Lupin.

_Dear Mr. Lupin,_

_ I hope you can come here soon. I'm eager to meet you, and of course I'll tell you all about me._

_ One thing bothers me, though. Why didn't Black get a trial? I mean, I know that there were witnesses and everything, but what if he had been under the Imperia curse, or whatever it's called, like Draco's (Draco Malfoy) dad was. At the very least, he should have been given a truth potion, to find out how much he had told the Death Eaters. I think that's a travesty of justice, and that we should raise up a stink about it until he gets one. Even just a dose of truth serum and a questioning would do._

_ Harry_

He sent it off with Hedwig, watching her fly with a wistful expression. The Dursley's would be happy to be rid of him, and he couldn't shake the idea that Remus Lupin would be happy to take him. Surely, his father's friend would rescue him. Right?

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. The Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws were already there, and so were forty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up." Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. "Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three - two -"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and -

WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight. Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get.".

She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Padma Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Patil."

"Look!" Draco said, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Oh, shut it Draco," Harry said lazily. "Neville's a pureblood, remember? You're not supposed to have anything against him."

Draco's face flushed a delicate pink. "I wouldn't, but he's practically a squib," he said quickly. "A disgrace to the name of pureblood, if you ask me."

"He also has someone else's wand," Harry pointed out. "His great-uncle's, I think. I'm going to buy him a new wand for Christmas, I'm sure he'll do better with a proper wand."

"And how would you know that," Parkinson sneered. "You're not in the same house as him!"

"True," Harry agreed, "but I do sit with him sometimes, and he works with me in Ron in Herbology. More to the point, I talked to him before the Sorting, in the boats. He told me then. Anyway, Draco, why don't you give the Remembrall to Justin there? I'm sure he'll return it."

Justin nodded. "Hufflepuff's stick together," he said firmly.

Draco looked thoughtful. "How about a contest?" he said finally. "If I win, I keep it, and… oh, fine," he said, seeing the look on Harry's face. "If I win, I'll just tease him about it at dinner and give it back. If you win, Finch-Fletchly can give it back, and just say that it fell from his pocket."

Harry shrugged. "Sure. What kind of contest did you have in mind?"

"A seeking contest," Draco said flatly. "Someone impartial will drop it from, say, a hundred feet, and well both try to catch it, starting from the same place."

"And who here'll be impartial?" Ron demanded. "No one would back you over Harry unless they were a _Slytherin_."

Draco gave Ron a withering look. "Oh, look who it is. _For your information,_ Weasley, not all Slytherin's are pals. Nott there hates me and Lord Potter both, he's the best we'll get." Theodore Nott looked annoyed at being singled out, but nodded his agreement.

"Hold on a second!" Dean Thomas shouted. "The Remembrall is made of glass! If neither of you gets it, it'll break!"

Nott sighed. "Thomas," he said testily, "what can you do to make something unbreakable?"

Dean blinked. "Well, you can use magic of… oh." The Slytherins laughed, and so did everyone else after Dean grinned a little at his own foolishness.

Harry and Draco flew up with Nott, rising quickly through the air. In a rush of fierce joy Harry realized he'd found something he could do without being taught - this was _easy_, this was_ wonderful_. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron. He turned his broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair. He looked stunned, but then grinned.

"Maybe this won't be so easy after all, Potter!" Draco teased.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist. He stood and tossed the Remembrall to Justin, who gave him a relieved smile. Glancing around, Harry saw that Draco had not dived as fast as he, and was now hopping easily off his broom, an amazed look on his face. Ron was ecstatic, and -

"HARRY POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -" Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck -"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"

"Be quiet, Miss Brown."

"But Malfoy -"

"That's _enough_, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry caught sight of Draco's stricken face as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone else turned up: Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Harry!" said Draco, relief evident in his voice. "You're clearly not expelled, but… what happened?"

"Well," Harry drawled, "After she disemboweled me and put me back together like a jigsaw puzzle, Professor McGonagall took me to the astronomy tower and dropped me, turning me into a spider as she did. When I finally got the bottom, I was understandably traumatized, and I am _never _going on a broom again." At this, Draco stood there flabbergasted, until Ron could no longer hold in his laughter.

"The look on your face!" he said, gasping for breath. "Like a stunned ferret! Hahaha!"

Draco scowled. "No, what really happened?"

Harry chuckled. "I got onto the team." Draco's eyes widened, and Harry was forced to tell the whole story.


	7. Chapter 7: Explosion and the Wizengamot

**A/N: This is about the point where divergences start to pile up, and not many of the parts will begin with excerpts from the books. Rather than detail every period of each day, however, I will start with a short summary of what's happened since the last part, in the following fashion.**

**Since the flying lesson, Harry's friendships became tighter. Neville was thankful for him getting his Remembrall back and not letting Draco taunt him; Hermione was impressed with his diffusion of the situation. Draco was astounded by his flying skills, and hounded him for a one-on-one match. Ron was the only one who wasn't pleased, but Harry, basking in his other friendships, didn't notice.**

* * *

A few days later at breakfast, Harry was startled by a large, ungainly, old grey owl, which fell from the sky and landed in between him and Ron.

"What's that?" asked Hermione, aghast. She and Neville had been sitting with Harry and Ron since the flying lesson. Harry had noticed, with some concern, that Hermione ate every meal with them at the Gryffindor table; Neville, on the other hand, ate dinner with his friends in Hufflepuff, Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Harry had asked Hermione why she never ate with her fellow Ravenclaws, but she refused to answer. That worried him.

Harry was dragged back to the present by Ron's cry of "Errol!"

"He's our family owl," Ron explained, untying the letter attached to Errol's leg. "Older than me; he's older than Percy, I think. Hey; why is this addressed to you?"

Harry snatched the envelope from Ron. "Because it's from Ginny to me," he said, ripping it open, while Ron and Neville helped Errol back into the air. "Let's see…"

_Dear Harry,_

_ I'm sorry for not writing earlier, but I had to decide what to start with. My mother recommends I tell you the simple things, the stuff that all wizarding children know._

_ So, let's start with the Trace. Basically, wizard children aren't allowed to cast magic out of school, so the government tracks the magic they cast using something called the Trace. No one is sure if it's applied individually or if it's some mass spell, but the Ministry can detect any spell cast near underage wizards. They can't tell _who_ cast it, though, so it's basically useless for people in a wizarding household. __Mom still won't let us practice, of course.__ They usually come to investigate if it's a muggleborn, but they have to rely on wizard parents to keep control of pureblood or halfblood children._

_ Then there's the whole pureblood philosophy thing. Personally, I find it repugnant and idiotic. If you want to find out ask Ron, I really don't even want to write about it._

_ Otherwise it's mostly just simple rules that are mostly common sense. Don't cast spells if you don't know what they do, don't try to invent new spells or potions if you're not a Master in the field, that sort of thing._

_ I hope you're liking Hogwarts. Write me what's going on, will you? None of my brothers have written back, and it's getting boring here at the Burrow._

_ Ginny_

Harry grinned, tucking the letter into his bags. "What did it say?" asked Hermione.

"More the point," Ron growled, "why are you getting a letter from _my_ sister?"

"She's writing me about the stuff everyone knows if they grew up with magic. I was raised as a muggle, after all. I'm sure I've mentioned it," Harry added.

Ron threw up his hands, flipping over his plate. "I don't know what's wrong with you!" he shouted, startling Harry. "First we have a good time on the train together, but then it turns out your friends with that _git_ Malfoy, _then_ you have a two hour talk with _Snape_, then get Neville's Remembrall back, and now you're moving in on _my sister!"_

As Ron ranted, Harry began to get more and more angry. "What's wrong with you, _Ron_!" he shouted right back. "Are you that jealous, just because I have more friends that just _you?_ Is it the fact that I can fly rings around you? That I'm doing better in class? Or is it the _scar_ on my head? I would give it to you in a second if I could! Do you think I_ like_ having people staring at me for something I don't even _remember?_ Do you think it's _fun?_" Harry's scar began to burn as he vented, not even noticing Professor Snape and McGonagall rushing from the High Table.

"Do you think _my_ life is all roses?" Ron snarled. "I have _five_ older brothers! Everything I _own_ is a hand-me-down, from my robes to my rat! Even my _wand_ isn't mine! I don't have _anything_ of my own, and people don't like me! They're all flocking to _your_ side, even my own _family_!"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Professor McGonagall arrived. "Mr. Weasley! My office, _immediately_!" Both Harry and Ron paused, noticing that the entire Hall's attention was focused on them. Ron went red and ran out of the Hall.

"We must discuss the proper punishment, Professor," Snape said calmly. "I think that ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting a meal, along with five detentions for Weasley and one for Potter, would be quite appropriate"

"Severus!" McGonagall exclaimed. "The boy merely lost his temper! He is only eleven! Surely this does not deserve such a severe punishment."

"I think," said Dumbledore, who had somehow arrived without being seen, "that this discussion is best completed in my office." McGonagall and Snape, glaring at each other, followed the Headmaster out of the hall.

"I'll go talk to Ronald," Hermione said, sounding worried.

"Hermione, wait…" Harry called.

"Yes?"

"Tell him…" Harry hesitated. "Tell him that I'm sorry… if he'll hear it."

Hermione studied his face. "I will, Harry," she said finally. "But I'm not sure you are, really."

Harry fell silent. He didn't really have an answer to that. After a moment, the brunette left the room.

In Potions class later that day, Harry vented to Draco. "…and then he claimed that his family was _abandoning_ him!" he finished. "He deserves all of the detentions Professor Snape recommended!" Snape, passing by, gave a small smirk as he heard this.

Draco nodded sympathetically as he carefully poured unicorn-powdered water into their cauldron. "He's a real git. It's no wonder our families hate each other. But I think that you need to calm down, and not think about him for a while."

Harry ran a hand through his hair absently, causing Professor Snape to stiffen for a moment. "I guess you're right, Draco. Why don't we have some of those lessons about the Noble houses, then?"

Draco shrugged. "Where shall I begin? Rights and privileges? The make-up of the Wizengamot? The distinction between different kinds of houses?"

Harry was bewildered. He had no idea that there were so many things to learn, but he was glad for it. "Start with the different types of houses, I guess."

"First of all are the Noble and Most Ancient Houses," Draco began. "There are thirteen of them, and they were the original noble houses when the British Ministry of Magic was founded. Black, Bones, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Lestrange, Longbottom, Malfoy, Patil, Potter, Ravenclaw, Rosier, Slytherin, and Tau.

"Then there are the Lesser Ancient Houses. There are a lot of them, like the Weasleys and the Prewetts. Most of them date back to around the 13th century, as opposed to the Noble and Most Ancient Houses, which all go back at least to the 10th century. Noble and Most Ancient Houses are mostly just called the Noble Houses, and the Lesser Ancient Houses are called the Lesser Houses.

"Now, the four Founder's houses are no longer extant, even though they probably have a few descendants through the female line. I think that the Malfoys have a Slytherin way back, but we're not able to claim to be the head of house; apparently there was some quality each founder had that their heirs would also have. In Slytherin's case, it's being a Parseltongue; able to speak to snakes, you know."

Harry started, remembering having spoken to the snake he had freed at the zoo.

"Anyway, I don't know about the other three founders," said Draco. "They have equally rare talents, I suspect. And then the last heir of the Tau's left England during the last wizarding war, went to America, and I don't know what happened to her. But anyway, there are also two other kinds of houses. There's the really young Houses, called the Minor Houses, and none of them date back to before the 18th century. And finally the muggleborn houses, which are technically called the Young Houses."

"Alright," said Harry, not noticing the angry glares Ron was shooting him, too absorbed in the new information. "And the Wizengamot?"

Draco smirked. "It's 144 members right now, and made of up three main groups. There're the Lords, who're the heads of the Noble Houses. You have a vote, or will once you come of age; that's why your title is technically 'future Lord Potter'. I'm future Lord Malfoy, but I have to wait until my father either dies or chooses to retire from the position of head of house. Anyway, there are a few Lords who've just done exceptional things for the world; I know that Dumbledore was made a Lord for defeating Grindelwald, for example, and there's some guy who's been a Lord for centuries, but I don't know much about him. There are only eight Lords in the Wizengamot right now, though; Lord Black, Lord Lestrange, and Lord Rosier are all in Azkaban, and Lady Tau is either in America or dead."

_Lord Black_, thought Harry. _That would be Sirius Black_.

"The second group is called the Barons," Draco continued, "and is supposedly people and families who've done good things for the Ministry, but most of them just donated a bunch of money. You get a seat there automatically if you get an Order of Merlin 1st class, too. There are a lot of them, 64, I think. And then there are 72 members who can be anyone, as long as they're nominated and approved by a third of the Wizengamot. There's a lot of competition between various factions for those seats, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"What would happen," Harry asked, trying to make it sound like curiosity about something that would never happen, rather than something that _would_ come up when he turned seventeen, "if someone was the head of two Noble Houses? Like, you have a kid who's a parseltongue, and he becomes the head of Slytherin House. Would he have two votes?"

Draco gave him a long, appraising look. "They'd have two votes," he finally answered. "Wondering what happens when you become Head of House Black?"

Harry was shocked. "What?" he exclaimed. "Why would I be head of House Black?"

Now _Draco _looked shocked. "Well, if you get a life sentence in Azkaban, like Sirius Black, the current Lord Black did, you're legally dead," he explained. "That means that your will is read. I don't know the contents of it, because it had a provision that either his son or you would have to be at least sixteen to hear it, but… you really don't know this?"

"Of course I do," Harry drawled. "It's not like I was raised by magic-hating Muggles, after all."

Draco sighed. "Black was your godfather. Unless it's otherwise stated in his will, you get to be the Head of House Black."

* * *

**A/N: This seems like a good place to leave it! Now, time to answer some concerns in advance.**

**No, I am not going to be making a 'Ron the Death Eater' fic. I'm also not going to write a fic in which Harry is the heir to every House. And I'm not writing a Harry/Draco fic.**


	8. Chapter 8: Godfather and the MakeUp

Harry gaped. "What?" he finally managed. "Really?"

Draco nodded, a bit of a sour look on his face. "Yeah… I'm the closest male relative, so my parents were quite miffed when he was made your godfather. Mother especially; she was Black's cousin, you know, and had wanted the Black lands to stay in the family."

"Hold on a second," Harry said, and sat back to think, letting Draco take over the lavender slicing he had been doing. So… Sirius Black, the man who had betrayed his parents to Voldemort, was also his Godfather. Why would his parents have made a man like that his godfather, who would have taken him in if they died? No; they had trusted him, that's why he had been able to give them away. So…

Why _had_ they trusted him? Surely people as smart as his parents had been would have seen some clue, something that said Black wasn't trustworthy. He hadn't even been in Slytherin. Well… maybe there was some other reason. Was there some way of getting information out of a person's mind? There was Veritaserum, but surely a charm as powerful as Mr. Lupin had implied would've been able to cover that. He really needed to look it up…

"Not like that, Draco," Harry said suddenly, stopping Draco as he was about to slice out the center of one of the flowers. "It works better if you slice the petals off instead of just getting the middle part." Draco gave him a skeptical look, but obeyed as he continued to think.

Was there some other kind of magic to do that? Perhaps something to read minds? Maybe. "Draco," he asked, "is there some sort of magic that can force someone to reveal information?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, surely wondering what train of thought had led to that question. "Several," he said. "There's the confundus charm, which compromises someone's common sense. If you get hit with it, someone could convince you that it's a good idea to tell them whatever the information is. Veritaserum, of course, will force you to tell the truth when they ask you. Let's see… there's something that can let you enter a person's mind… it starts with an 'L', I don' remember the name, though. Oh, and the Imperius curse."

Harry frowned. He had read that several of Voldemort's servants had been able to avoid Azkaban by pleading they were under the Imperius curse, but _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ hadn't said what that was. "What does the Imperius do?"

_"_It makes the victim do whatever the caster wants," Draco said, adding the flower cores to the bubbling potion. "It can be fought off, but the stronger the caster is the harder to fight. My father is very strong-willed, but the Dark Lord was able to get him with the Imperius and control his mind."

Harry froze. He had, of course, known that Draco's father had been one of those who pleaded the Imperius, but… this could explain why Black betrayed his parents! If a wizard as powerful as Draco's father could be suborned by this curse, then Black probably could be as well! He hoped that Hedwig would come back soon; he need to talk to Mr. Lupin as soon as possible.

Or even to Dumbledore. Surely the greatest wizard in the world, as Ron called him, would want to get a possibly innocent man out of prison. Right? If Black was innocent, if he had been confounded or dosed or Imperiused, Veritaserum would reveal it. He would be out of prison, and if he was innocent, then maybe he would be able to live with Black instead!

_If _he's innocent, Harry reminded himself. It was entirely possible that Black had actually done what he was claimed to. He had certainly never denied it, but then he hadn't confessed either. Best not to think about it one way or another.

"Potter!" Snape snapped. "Are you really arrogant enough to make Malfoy do your work for you?" Harry snapped back into reality at the sight of the professor looming over him.

"Sorry Professor Snape, I have a lot to think about." Harry snatched the next ingredient from Draco's hands and began preparing it for the potion.

That night, Ron sat all the way at other end of the Gryffindor table from Harry and Hermione.

"Well?" he asked her. "What did he say?"

She sighed. "Ron agreed to apologize…"

"Good," Harry growled.

Hermione continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "…if you buy him a good broom for Christmas."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "I'm already buying him a proper wand; well, a certificate for a proper wand; and he wants something ten times the cost instead? That's… well, ridiculous!"

Hermione shook her head. "Not instead of," she explained. "Along with. I know, it's greedy and ridiculous, but…"

Harry practically snarled. "No. I'm not going to _buy_ a friend. He's not getting a broom from me, not this year. And if he doesn't apologize, then I'm not getting him the wand, either."

Hermione shrugged. "I agree with you, he's being completely unreasonable. I think that maybe you should try to, well… try to talk to him. It doesn't have to be now but…"

They ate in silence for a while as Harry stewed inside. Finally, he said "All right. I'll try to talk to him in the common room tonight. I don't want to lose Gryffindor any more points if he blows up again."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about Snape," Hermione said, ceasing the opening for a change in subject. Harry observed it with amusement; she clearly didn't like the idea of her friends arguing. "Snape–"

"_Professor_ Snape," Harry interjected.

"–is… how shall I put this? He's… not the best teacher."

Harry paused with his fork halfway to his face. "What do you mean?"

The Ravenclaw sighed. "He hasn't explained anything about how potions work, ever. All he does is put the instructions on the board, in such tiny writing it's hard to read even from right in front. Then he walks around the room, criticizing without telling you how to fix the problems he points out."

"It's even worse for us Gryffindors," Seamus Finnegan interjected. "He takes off points for anything and everything up to breathing, but only off of us, not the Slytherins. Whenever one of _them_ messes up, they claim that one of us sabotaged them, and he takes their word for it. But we tell him that they sabotaged us, which they _do_, he doesn't believe us. The git–"

"Seamus!" Hermione gasped, scandalized. "He's still a teacher!"

Harry just sat there as Hermione and Seamus argued about whether a teacher who didn't teach deserved respect. Why was Professor Snape not teaching? The books he had recommended were wonderful, and had definitely helped in his understanding of the subject. Why wasn't _The ingredients Guide_ a course book? It was laid out simply and understandably, so it wasn't that it wouldn't make sense to younger readers; _Small but Important, _while it had explanations for why each little change had the effect it would, but the explanations went far over Harry's head. Even so, there was no reason he could see for Professor Snape to not put them on the book list.

And why _did_ he favor Slytherin so blatantly? Sure, he was their head of house; but Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor, and she was if possible even more strict with her house than with the Hufflepuffs they had class with. And why did Professor Snape seem to hate Gryffindor? There was the house rivalry thing, but surely it wasn't that bad! He and Draco were the most prominent students in their year, and they were friends.

Harry set the subject aside and decided to ask Professor McGonagall after the next class. She was her head of house, surely she wouldn't object to a talk with him.

When he returned to the Common Room that night, Harry found Ron sitting in an armchair, surrounded by the other first-year Gryffindors. When they saw him, grins spread across their faces, until Ron snapped "Push off, all of you! I told you, this is private!"

They grumbled about it, but eventually left as Ron glared. After a few minutes, it was just Ron and Harry, staring at each other.

Ron sat back in his chair and sighed. "I suppose Hermione told you about our conversation."

Harry nodded. "I'm not buying you a broom," he warned.

Ron chuckled. "She really thought I was serious about that? What I said was 'maybe I should refuse to apologize until you buy me a broom'; it was a _joke_."

Harry burst out laughing. "Well, good, because after I heard that I was planning to not give you _anything_ for Christmas!" Ron looked panicked for a moment. "Look, are we both sorry about what happened?" The redhead nodded. "Then it's done, we're fine. You're getting a new wand, same with Neville, and that's the end of it."

Ron sighed with relief. "Oh, good."

The next morning, Harry was glad to see Hedwig in the cloud of owls swirling down to him. He snatched Lupin's letter greedily and fed the white bird a strip of bacon.

_Dear Harry,_

_ I'm glad you're willing to see me. I'll go through the appropriate channels to return to Britain, and I should be there by the end of October. Perhaps I can come visit you for a proper talk on Halloween. _

_ While I would like to believe that Black is innocent, there is no way I can think of for it to be that way. The Imperius curse broke on those who were under it when Voldemort was destroyed, and Black's murder of Peter occurred the day afterwards. There are other possibilities for why Black would've betrayed your parents, ones in which he is innocent. But none of these can explain why he killed Peter and twelve muggles. No, logic says that Black is guilty._

_ However, you are correct that it is a travesty of justice to put anyone in prison with no chance to defend themselves; especially when the prison is Azkaban, which can be rightly called the worst place in the world. But let us leave this subject for our meeting._

_ Remus_

Harry finished the letter with a sinking heart. Mr. Lupin was right, Black was probably guilty. He wouldn't be able to take him from the Dursleys. But, Harry reminded himself, Mr. Lupin might. His first letter had implied that he would have raised Harry himself, but Dumbledore had wanted him with his relatives.

Which was strange. Dumbledore was the _Headmaster of Hogwarts_, the most powerful wizard in the world. Surely, he would have known how the Dursleys had treated their foster child. No… no, there had to be a reason for it. Not all of You-know-who's followers had been caught, after all. Perhaps there was some sort of protection over the Dursley's house. But that could have been placed somewhere else too, surely. So if there was a protection of some sort, it would have been something that couldn't be replicated, similar to whatever had saved him originally, perhaps.

What _had_ saved him? No one seemed to know; but maybe whatever it was could be… recharged? Maintained? If it could be kept alive by living with family, then that would be a good reason for it. Maybe. There was very little that could excuse the leaving him with the Dursleys.

_Dear Ginny,_

_ Lot's of stuff has happened recently. I don't know what to tell you first! Maybe I'll just start at the beginning._

_ I got Sorted into Gryffindor, first of all. I made four good friends; your brother, who also got into Gryffindor (I noticed he hasn't sent you anything, the git), Neville Longbottom, who's in Hufflepuff, a girl named Hermione, in Ravenclaw, and this kid named Draco Malfoy, who's in Slytherin . Oh, and Ron said something about a blood feud with the Malfoys, but Draco told me that there isn't anything like that. Can you clarify?_

_ Anyway, I talked to Professor Snape about my mum, and he told me a lot about her. He seems to like me, but he hates every other Gryffindor. I don't know why. I'm doing pretty well in my classes; I think I'm the best in Gryffindor at most of them, actually. Not History, though, that's boring. I can barely sit through it._

_ Then there was the flying lesson. God Merlin, the flying lesson. That was weird. Neville fell off his broom and broke his wrist, and then Draco grabbed the Remembrall Neville's gran had sent him that morning. I convinced Draco to give it to Justin, another Hufflepuff, to return it to Neville, by beating him in a Seeking competition. Professor McGonagall saw; I thought I was going to be expelled! But no, I was put onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team! Apparently they haven't had a decent seeker in years. Ah, well._

_ I'd better leave off here before I break my quill. Hope you're having fun back at the Burrow._

_ Harry_


	9. Chapter 9: Breakfast and Chess

_Dear Harry,_

_ You got onto the Quidditch team? I'm so jealous! I LOVE Quidditch, it's the best sport in the WORLD! I'll try and convince Mum to let me come watch you play, it'll be BRILLIANT._

_ I'm trying to get Mum to teach me how to make a Howler so I can send Ron one. The prat still hasn't sent anything. By the way, a Howler is a sort of magical letter; it reads out its contents in the voice of the sender; very, very loudly. Mum's really good at them, Fred and George get them all the time._

_ A Blood feud with the Malfoy's? No, your friend Draco is right. There's no feud. I know that Dad and Mr. Malfoy really hate each other, and the families have opposite views on just about everything, but there isn't a blood feud. The problem with a blood feud, you see, is that all of your family is brought into it; and all pureblood families are related relatively closely. Mrs. Malfoy was a Black, and Dad's mum was a Black too (she was disinherited, though), so we're not that far away. So the Malfoys would be dragged into a feud-by-proxy with themselves, and that's impossible. So it's really rare for there to be a blood feud between two pureblood families. It does happen occasionally, though. _

_ I'm sending you a book of common household charms that mum bought me for my birthday. It's got everything from cleaning spells, like _scourgify_ to tooth-brushing spells, like _dentimuno. _There's even a charm for wiping your…_

_ Anyway, along with that I'm gonna tell you about what happens after Hogwarts. Most wizards go into either the Ministry of Magic or into retail of some sort. We don't have a large population, and so a good half of the population is working in Diagon Alley or one of its branches, like Knockturn Alley (blech). I'm counting Quidditch players and their associates among Diagon Alley too, by the way. About another third of us are in the Ministry, and the rest are all unemployed, being supported by a member of the family or just homeless. Mum doesn't work, for example, we just get along on Dad's salary._

_ And then there are the people who work at Hogwarts. The Professors. It's one of the most prestigious jobs in Britain. You need to have gotten an O on your OWL for that subject, AND on the NEWT, AND you need to pass this ridiculously difficult test to get a Mastery in that subject, AND you have to have passed three other NEWTs at minimum. So any professor at Hogwarts is better at magic than just about anyone. Percy's said that Snape has TWO Masteries, in Defense and Potions. Flitwick has two as well, Charms and Defense, but most of the others have just the one. Dumbledore, though, has THREE Masteries! Defense, Transfiguration, and Charms. There are only four people who've ever gotten three Masteries, ever! It's crazy!_

_ I'd better stop rambling on now, Mum needs help with the laundry._

_ Ginny_

Harry read the letter before opening the package Ginny had sent him along with it. It was indeed a book, called _101 Simple Charms No Wizard Can Do Without. _He flipped through it for a minute or so, and found several spells he resolved to master as soon as possible, like the umbrella charm and the one which would style your hair for you; although, he mused, it probably wouldn't work on him. Still, it would be funny to cast it on Ron when he wasn't expecting it. And he had somehow gotten the mental picture of Draco in pigtails, and just couldn't get rid of it. He chuckled.

"What did she say?" asked Ron. It looked like he was still harboring some resentment about Harry's correspondence with Ginny, judging by his expression, but at least he was keeping a hold on his temper this time. Harry made a mental note to try and spend more time with him; that might help with his burgeoning jealousy issues. He wondered what kind of games wizards played; he would ask Ron in the common room that night.

"She said that there's not a blood feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys," Harry told him. "And she told me a little about wizarding jobs. Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?"

Ron sputtered. "No blood feud? I'm sure there is one. And I've always wanted to be a professional Keeper for Quidditch. How about you?"

Harry shook his head. "I've now got both a Weasley and a Malfoy denying the blood feud, so you're outnumbered. And I have no idea. What kind of jobs are there? Ginny was pretty general."

Ron dusted some crumbs from his fingers. "Well, as far as Diagon Alley goes, shopkeepers and the people who make stuff," he said. "There's a few business that don't exist yet which I can see openings for, but mostly that's shut up tight aside from keeping a store or making stuff for one. In the Ministry, there's a bunch of different departments; the DMLE, that's magical law enforcement… the DIMC, that's international magical cooperation… my dad works in the DRMA, that's regulation of muggle artifacts."

Harry listened to Ron explain jobs in more detail absently as he ate. Hogwarts was quickly becoming normal to him, despite how strange it was; and he liked it.

That night, Harry asked Ron about any wizarding board games, and five minutes later, he was being thoroughly trounced at chess. He stared down at the board, wondering how on earth Ron had beaten him so thoroughly in just a few minutes. "This," he said firmly, "is impossible. I was nearly a Ravenclaw, you were Gryffindor the moment the Hat touched your head!"

Ron laughed. "Don't feel bad, Harry. I beat _everyone_ at chess. Fred and George say it's kind of ridiculous. Besides, you're probably not used to having the pieces argue with you."

"True," Harry admitted. "But even so…"

"Ah, it seems that Harrykins has discovered the wonders of chess–"

"–and of being trounced at it by our wonderful brother." Fred and George stood over Harry and Ron, wide grins splashed across their faces.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Yes? What do you want?"

Fred, unless it was George, looked aghast. "Why, Harry! You assume that we want to rope you into something?" Harry just waited.

George, or maybe Fred, burst out laughing. "He's got us there, dear brother!" he exclaimed.

"Well, Harry, we were wondering–"

"–how you felt about the idea of helping us–"

"–to perform a particularly ingenious prank."

Harry blinked. It was hard to keep track of them when they kept changing who was speaking. "What sort of prank?" he said cautiously.

"Well, young 'un, our much-loved potions master is quite taken with you," the one on the left began.

"We have no idea why, of course," the one on the right commented.

"Of course. In any case, he seems to like you, even though he hates the rest of Gryffindor."

"So we were wondering if you'd help us by distracting him–"

"–while we invade his private quarters–"

"–to plant a rather special concoction of ours."

"What does it do?" Ron asked, clearly hoping for something gruesome.

"Well, Ronnikins," began the one that Harry was pretty sure was Fred, "I'm sure you've noticed Snape's lustrous hair?" Ron nodded.

Maybe-George snickered. "We're going to plant a potion in his shampoo that will turn his hair bright pink and make it form into… amusing shapes."

"But he doesn't use shampoo," said Lee Jordan, who was passing.

"Right," agreed Fred. "So we'll also enchant it to spray at people, and to float around after him the whole day."

Harry wrinkled his nose. At least he didn't have Potions today. "And you need me to…"

"Merely ask him for a favor that requires him to leave his quarters," George said.

"Ask if he can explain how to brew an advanced potion," Fred suggested. "Pepper-up potion, maybe, or dreamless sleep potion."

"Do dreamless sleep," George recommended. "Say that you've been having nightmares."

"But I haven't been having bad dreams," Harry protested.

"Actually," said Ron, "you keep shifting in the night, and moaning weirdly. It sounds like you're pleading with someone not to do something. I didn't want to say anything, but…"

Harry blinked. "Really?" Ron nodded. Harry tapped his cheek. "Well… give me some time to think about it, alright? It's… well, it could lose everyone involved a lot of points, so…"

Fred or George shrugged. "Just decide by this time next week," he said. "The potion will spoil in eight days, if we've brewed it right; and we have."


	10. Chapter 10: Charms and the Feast

**A/N: So, I've basically left the thread of the books as far as picking up from inside a chapter goes. It was annoying anyway, and I doubt many people liked it. Once I finish first year and move on to second, it'll happen again a few times, but that's not for a while yet. After all, I haven't even gotten to Halloween yet. Of course, the pace of the story will be picking up in this chapter, so let's see what happens.**

**You may also notice that the rating of the story has risen. This is due to mild swearing. Gred and Forge, you scamps. How did your Mum let you learn that sort of language?**

The next morning, Harry told the twins that he'd better not help out. After all, Professor Snape could make his life difficult for him, and it wasn't good idea to get on the wrong side of people in authority, especially so early in the year. At least, that was what he told them; actually, he rather liked Professor Snape. Perhaps they could meet again so that he could hear more about his Mum.

The twins were agreeable about him not helping, but only until he told them why. "Harry!" Fred said, seeming shocked. "What's wrong with ticking off authority figures?"

"We haven't done much else, and look how well we're doing!" George exclaimed.

Harry sighed. "Professor Snape is not the most.. even-tempered of men," he said, trying to find a good word in his extensive vocabulary. "He…"

"He's a right bastard is what he is," Fred muttered.

"Why, brother!" said George, aghast. "Swearing in front of the little 'un! How rude!"

"Heard it before," Harry shrugged. "I did go to public school, after all." He made a face. "May I continue?"

"But of course," they said in unison.

"Professor Snape would be _very _upset with me if he found out my role," Harry said. "And I want to hear more about my Mum."

George blinked. "Snape knew your Mum?"

"They were friends in school."

"Well then, we can't let him not tell you about your Mum!" Fred declared. "Of course, you mustn't upset him."

Time began to pass quickly. Harry soon reached the top of his classes, reading theory books in his spare time and mastering, one by one, the spells in the book Ginny had sent him. He continued to correspond with Ginny, and continued to lose to Ron in Wizard chess. Beginning to get tired of being trounced, Harry searched the library for books on chess theory; however, the closest thing he found was about how to get the living chessmen to like you. This was surprisingly helpful; after he ordered a set for himself and befriended its chessmen, the length of his games with Ron nearly doubled. Of course, that was only another ten minutes, but Ron was quite impressed by how he did without the chessmen swearing at him.

Before long, Halloween was approaching. Mr. Lupin had confirmed that he would be by during the feast. Decorations were beginning to appear, all throughout the school; a week or so before the date, Professor Flitwick filled his classroom with illusory bats and taught the class how to charm a pumpkin to empty itself on its own. On the 26th, Professor McGonagall taught them how to transfigure a wooden knife into a metal one, and had them demonstrate the knives by carving pumpkins. Even Professor Snape seemed to be infected with a small amount of Halloween spirit, having his first-years brew a Draught of Dark Eyes, which just _happened _to have a base of pumpkin juice.

All in all, Harry was having a wonderful time at Hogwarts, marred by just two things; the continuing hatred from Ron for Draco, although Draco seemed to be merely indifferent towards Ron, and Hermione's mystery. She still avoided her Ravenclaw peers, choosing instead to spend her time either in the library or with Harry. But when he grilled her about it, she refused to explain, instead suddenly remembering about some piece of homework or extra credit that she had to do.

On Halloween morning, Harry sat bolt upright in bed the moment he woke; he would finally meet Mr. Lupin today! He couldn't wait.

"Oi!" Ron called, throwing a pillow at him from his own bed. "Wake up, lazybones. Oh, you're awake without me."

Harry grabbed the pillow and poked it with his wand. He had been having trouble with a transfiguration they had been learning last week; he had worked it out with Hermione's help, but until he had there was a tendency for objects to squish up into balls. He performed the wand motion, omitting the subtle twist at the end he had been missing, and it curled up into a sphere.

"Um, Harry?" Ron said, beginning to look confused and somewhat worried by Harry's actions. "What are you– oof!" Harry had flung the pillow-ball like a quaffle, sending it right into Ron's face. Ron began laughing, and flung it right back at his friend.

After half an hour, they gave up their pillow-ball fight, and went down to breakfast. Hermione was already at the Gryffindor Table, but Neville seemed to still be asleep.

"Hey Hermione," Harry said.

"Hello Harry," she said, pouring syrup over her pancakes. "How are you?"

"I'm excited!" he exclaimed, snatching a plate and loading it with waffles. He began to explain that Mr. Lupin would be there that day, but the Ravenclaw girl interrupted him before he could.

"Me too!" she exclaimed. "Professor Flitwick said that we'll be starting on levitation charms today, I can't wait!"

Harry blinked. "Actually, I was excited because Mr. Lupin is supposed to come for the feast."

"Oh, right." She pokes at her pancakes for a moment before looking up. "Harry, this Mr. Lupin…"

"Yes?"

"How well do you really know him?" he stared at her uncomprehendingly, not knowing what the girl was getting at. Hermione sighed. "Harry, there are loads of people who supported You-Know-Who. Not all of them went to jail, either. Some of them are still running around… like Malfoy's dad, for example." She scowled. "Imperius curse… yeah, right."

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, "Draco's my friend. Please, don't bad-mouth him. At least, not in front of me."

"All right, Harry, but still. Do you know this Lupin fellow well enough to be sure that he didn't support You-Know-Who? What if he's under the Imperius?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Hermione, I'm sure that Dumbledore wouldn't have agreed to let him come if he was under the Imperius."

"But that's just it!" she exclaimed. "Dumbledore isn't happy about it, look! He wouldn't let this Lupin fellow come until you said that you wanted to meet him!"

"Hermione," Ron butted it, "leave it be, will you? The bloke knew Harry's mum and dad, do you really want Harry not to meet him?"

"Well, of course not, but–"

"Hermione!" Harry said sharply. "I'm going to meet with Mr. Lupin tonight, and that's final. Understand?"

But it seemed that Hermione did not understand. She stormed off, sitting by herself at the Ravenclaw table, and refused to speak to any of them, even Neville, who came down several minutes later. When they went to Charms after breakfast, Ron could be heard complaining loudly.

"She thinks she knows what's good for everyone, better than they do! What right does she have to control your life for you?" Ron fumed. Meanwhile, Draco entered and gave Ron a strange look, then raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"'scuse me, Ron, I'll be back," Harry said, sliding out of his chair and hurrying over to Draco.

"What's Weasley going on about?" Draco asked as he sat.

Harry ran a hand through his hair absently. "I told you about Mr. Lupin, right?" the Slytherin boy nodded and Harry continued. "He's coming to visit tonight, and–"

"Oh, good for you!" Draco interrupted enthusiastically. "Maybe he'll be willing to tell you about your dad; I know Uncle Severus hated him."

Harry gaped at Draco. "_Uncle Severus?_"

Draco shrugged. "Hey, he's my godfather."

Harry chuckled. "I know, but still; _Uncle?"_ Draco looked uncomfortable, and Harry laughed.

"Can we get back to what you were saying, please?"

"You were the one who interrupted," Harry pointed out. "But all right. _As I was saying_, Mr. Lupin is coming tonight, and Hermione thinks that I shouldn't talk to him."

Draco looked puzzled. "Why on earth would Granger think that?"

Harry shrugged. "She's worried that he's under the Imperius or supported You-Know-Who or something. I don't why either of those would be possible…"

Draco nodded. "All of the Dark Lord's followers were either under the Imperius or are now in Azkaban. Or dead. Besides, Hogwarts is the safest place in all of Wizarding Britain."

"And on top of that, Dumbledore will there the whole time," Harry agreed. "There's no reason to think–" but he was cut off by Flitwick's entrance and had to return to the desk he shared with Ron.

A few minutes into Flitwick's lecture of the charm they were to start practicing today, the Hover charm, Ron poked Harry's arm and pointed to his parchment.

_What do you see in that guy?_ Ron had scrawled.

_Which guy?_ Harry wrote back. _Draco?_

_ Yeah._

_ He's not that bad you know_, Harry scribbled. _We both like Quidditch, we both have similar talents…_

_ He's a rich twat. _This was followed by a tiny doodle of someone – probably Draco – flying on a broom. Ron poked the paper with his wand and the broom turned a shiny golden color.

Harry smothered a chuckle and drew his own doodle; himself, flying on a silver broom. _I'm nearly as rich,_ he replied. _Am I a twat?_

_ It's not the richness,_ Ron quickly wrote, _it's that he won't shut up about it_. He proceeded to draw Draco again, with his mouth wide open and a speech bubble filled with a huge $.

_Actually_, Harry corrected him, _it's more like this._ Harry drew his own speech bubble for the doodle, filled with a quick sketch of a Quidditch field. _And for you too._

_ I resemble that remark_.

"Any questions?" called Professor Flitwick. Harry quickly turned away from his paper and began rereading the section on the Hover charm.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick shortly afterwards, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Baron Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was very difficult. Harry and Ron swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop.

Seamus, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" he shouted, prodding the feather, and it burst into flames.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Draco snap. "It's Wing-gaar-dium Levi-oo-sa, with a long 'gar' and 'o'. Honestly, you're a disgrace to the name of wizardry."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Draco rolled up the sleeves of his robe, flicked his wand, and said "_Wingardium Leviosa."_ The feather rose slowly, then suddenly shot up and slammed repeatedly into the ceiling. Harry winced.

"Prat," Ron said smugly, turning back to their own feather. "Now then–"

"Wait, I want another go," Harry said. He concentrated fiercely, and flicked his wand. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ he said, trying to imagine the feather floating, as though in water. He concentrated on the air acting like water, buoying the feather up, and…

Nothing happened. He sighed. Clearly, the universe had no sense of the dramatic.

Their History lesson that afternoon went no better. Unable to pay attention to the ghostly Professor Binns, they instead played hangman on a bit of scratch parchment. Hermione, sitting behind them, glared constantly and whispered about how irresponsible they were being. Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder none of the Ravenclaws can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly. I need my Gryffindor bravery to deal with her, I swear."

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face - and was startled to see that she was in tears. "I think she heard you."

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Well, us, I guess," Ron said. "But none of the Ravenclaws can stand her. She's even more bookish than they are, and that's saying something."

Harry considered this, and realize that it made sense. She avoided her housemates because they didn't like her; she hung out with them because he was nice to her. Hermione didn't turn up for Herbology after lunch, when she had sat alone at the Ravenclaw table again, and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. Harry glanced at the Head Table; sitting on Dumbledore's left side was a ragged looking man with dark blue robes and faint scars on his face. It must have been Mr. Lupin, as the man glanced at him, smiled, and mouthed _after dinner_. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

**A/N: And we'll leave it at that. **


	11. Chapter 11: Troll

**A/N: Again, I am searching for a beta for this story. Please PM me if you are interested. This is the first chapter in quite a while to begin with a passage from the book, so I'll again bold the change.**

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly **stopped, realizing something.**

Ron noticed Harry's halt, and paused as well. "Harry?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Hermione!" Harry said, eyes wide. "She doesn't know about the troll!"

Ron bit his lip. "Oh, all right. But Percy'd better not see us."

Harry stared at him like he was mad. "What're you talking about?" he asked. "We need to find a teacher!"

Ron smacked himself in the forehead. "Duh… why didn't I think of that? I thought we were going to go get her ourselves."

"Maybe because you're a Gryffindor through and through?" Harry said dryly as they darted back to the great hall. They corner and slammed right into Remus Lupin.

Lupin blinked. "Harry? What are you doing here? You should be getting back to the Tower. And your friend, too."

"Mr. Lupin!" Harry gasped, climbing to his feet and giving Ron a hand up. "Hermione doesn't know about the troll!"

Lupin's slightly scarred face instantly set firmly. "Where?"

"Er… third floor girls' bathroom, I think," Harry said, and Lupin set off immediately, walking almost too fast for Ron and Harry to keep up. "She was upset by something that happened before the feast, and–"

"I know the feeling," Lupin said shortly. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "I assume that there is no point in attempting to dissuade you two from following me?"

"That's right," Ron agreed, huffing and puffing with the attempt to keep up with the tall, scarred man.

"Then I must ask that you remain _out of the way_. I am an expert in Dark creatures, and I know the weak points of a troll. We probably won't run into it, of course, as the troll is in the dungeons. But if we do, your spells won't be able to penetrate the troll's hide, and will only distract me.

Harry and Ron nodded, Lupin's calm tone deadening their panic. After all, Hermione was on the third floor, far above the troll. There was no reason to worry. Hermione would be fine, they would be fine, and–

Harry stopped, confused, as Lupin halted and brought a fist up next to his head. Ron continued moving until the scarred man grabbed the back of his robes.

"Mr. Lupin, what–" Ron began before being silenced by a finger to his lips. Lupin closed his eyes, apparently listening for something. After a moment, Harry thought that he heard it as well; a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of enormous feet.

Lupin's lips moved silently for a moment, then he said "The troll is on the other side of this wall," he said, nodding to the right. "Around two corners. _Remain here._" Without waiting for an answer, Lupin silently padded around the corner.

Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment. "This is _so cool_." Ron said suddenly. "It's like one of those auror stories! Hey, we should go peek at what's happening!"

Harry, however, hesitated. "I don't know if we should–" but was interrupted by a blood-curling scream coming from the other side of the wall. "Hermione!" he and Ron shouted in unison, and they dashed forward. As they rounded the corner, they heard a thunderous crash, and the troll came flying through the door of the girl's bathroom, slamming into the opposite wall. Lupin stood in the doorway with pale orange mist seeping from the end of his wand, face set in an expression of perfect calm apart from a faint smile. Harry could make our Hermione cowering under the sink behind him.

The troll lurched to its feet and swung its club at Lupin's head, causing Harry to shout out, but Lupin simply ducked casually under it. The man flicked his wand easily, and a bolt of uninteresting grey light spilled from his wand, engulfing the monster's head. It blinked stupidly for a moment, turning around as though unable to see where Lupin was, or perhaps simply not caring. At first Harry thought that Lupin had won, but then the troll spotted Harry and Ron as the grey light seemed to collapse. It lumbered forward.

Harry was frozen in place as the Troll stomped towards him and Ron, while Lupin seemed to panic and hurled spells at the troll, all of which simply splashed harmlessly on its thick skin. Trolls, he remembered, were immune or resistant to most spells. Their skin was almost three inches thick, he thought, and would harden into something approaching the consistency of stone, freezing the beast in place, in direct sunlight. But that was useless, as they were inside. He absently noted that the troll's eyes were the clearest blue he had ever seen.

Ron, meanwhile, was raising his wand in a surprisingly steady hand. "_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ the redhead cried, surely simply casting the first spell he could think of. But the troll's club lifted right out of its hands, causing the troll to stop in its tracks, staring at the club floating above its head. Ron dropped his wand sharply, causing the club to collide with the monster's forehead and knocking it out. Harry observed this with an oddly disconnected interest.

Lupin was staring at Ron and the knocked out troll with his mouth gaping, while Hermione peeked out from behind his robes. At that point, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape all came around the corner and stopped, speechless, at the sight in front of them.

After a moment, Dumbledore found his voice. "Remus," he said, eyes beginning to twinkle, "what exactly happened here?"

Lupin closed his mouth, shook his head, and answered "Harry and the young man there; are you a Weasley, by any chance? I thought so… anyway, the two of them ran into me as I was leaving the Hall. They informed me that this young lady here was in the bathroom, having been upset over something, and so didn't know about the troll. I went to go collect her and escort her and the young men back to the tower." He smiled a little. "I heard the troll, and so was prepared to drive it back from the young lady, into the corridor. The troll then noticed Harry and Mr. Weasley, and set off to assault them. Mr. Weasley used a levitation charm to knock the troll out with its own club."

Dumbledore was smiling widely by the end of the tale, McGonagall had a little smirk on her face, and Snape was glaring at Ron. "Mr. Weasley!" the Scottish professor said, rather proudly, "twenty points to Gryffindor, for realizing that such a simple charm could take out a mountain troll."

"And ten points for alerting a teacher rather than seeking out Mrs. Granger on your own," Dumbledore added. "A failing of most young Gryffindors is that they head off to battle without a second thought, and don't, say, tell a more experienced wizard about the problem."

Lupin turned to Hermione. "Mrs.… Granger, was it? Are you all right?"

Hermione glanced down at herself. "I… I think so. I don't feel any pain." Then, however, she noticed her arm. It appeared to have three elbows. "…oh…" she said, faintly.

"Please escort her to the Hospital Wing, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "And cast a pain-deadening charm on her as well; I expect the shock will wear off soon." The stern woman nodded and gently steered Hermione down the hallway, tapping her forehead with her wand as she did. Dumbledore smiled widely. "Now then, we said thirty points, correct?"

Snape seemed to find his voice at this point. "Are you sure you should be so… lenient?" he asked icily.

Dumbledore frowned. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Severus."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You do not teach Weasley, but I do; and I assure you, he is not at all competent. He is thoughtless, irresponsible; I have mentioned to you my concerns about his association with and influence on Potter." Harry gasped. What was this?

Dumbledore raised his own eyebrow, mirroring Snape's. "Indeed. And?"

"I think that the true course of events is clear," Snape continued. "Weasley convinced Potter to go searching for the troll, and they stumbled into Lupin. Potter concocted a story to cover for them, and it went as Lupin said from there. But this raises another interesting question. Why was Lupin here in the first place?" Amid his silent fuming about Snape's clear hatred of Ron, Harry remembered that Snape had not been present during the Halloween Feast; where _had_ he been?

"I can answer that, Albus," Lupin said as Dumbledore opened his mouth. "I've been corresponding with Harry for almost two months now, after he contacted me to ask about his father. After I returned to Britain, I made arrangements to meet with Harry in person. After some time, Albus agreed to have me come for a night on Halloween."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "The guardian of a child is not permitted to visit," he hissed. "Get out of this castle, Lupin."

"But Remus is not Harry's guardian," Dumbledore interjected. "In fact, visiting Harry is not even his primary purpose here. He will be giving a lecture in Defense Against the Dark Arts." Lupin blinked at this in apparent surprise, at Harry guessed that Dumbledore had decided this right then and there. He was pretty sure this wasn't the best idea; Snape looked ready to leap at Lupin and strangle him with his bare hands now.

"Professor Snape?" Harry said, and everyone turned to look at him. He took a deep breath. "Mr. Lupin knew my parents, and was close to my father. I know that you don't like speaking of my father, but I do want to hear about him."

Snape glared at Lupin with more hate than Harry had ever seen. For a moment, he was worried that Snape would lose control of his magic and incinerate Lupin. But no, he thought, Snape was too in control of himself; somehow he couldn't imagine the Potions Professor hurting anyone that he didn't want to. And Lupin was clearly an experienced fighter; Harry wondered if he'd been an auror while in America. In any case, he would surely be fine if Snape did lose control. And Dumbledore was there as well.

"…do you understand me, Potter?" Harry blinked, realizing that while he worried, Snape had been giving him a stern lecture.

"Sorry, Professor, I was… thinking." Harry met Snape's blazing black eyes steadily. "Do you mind saying that again?" He felt an odd tickling sensation at the back of his eyeballs and blinked furiously. It went away, and he promptly forgot about it.

Harry was all too aware that he was probably the only student in the school who could ask Professor Snape to repeat himself, and took a strange pleasure in the astounded expression on Lupin and Ron's faces as Snape told him again that Lupin was dangerous and that he should go to Dumbledore or himself the moment that he felt the least bit threatened. Ron's expression was priceless; Professor Snape, showing _concern_ for a student! A _Gryffindor_ no less. Mr. Lupin, meanwhile, was simply smiling benignly, seeming to be more amused by Snape's tirade than anything else. Dumbledore had his eyes closed and appeared to be sucking on a sweet of some sort with a look of bliss.

"Yes, Professor Snape," Harry said. "I understand."


	12. Chapter 12: Remus

Snape nodded curtly and strode off, Dumbledore following with a wink at Harry. Lupin glanced at Harry. "I know you said you were on good turns with Severus," he said with a faint smile, "but please forgive me having found it hard to believe. His only friend that I know of was your mother, and, to be frank, I'm not sure why."

Ron snorted. "I can't imagine Snape being friends with anyone," he said when Lupin looked at him. "Did you know that Harry is the only Gryffindor who hasn't lost points from him this year?"

Lupin shrugged. "Far be it for me to criticize a professor's teaching style," he said quietly. "But if you'd excuse us, Mr. Weasley, I'd like to speak to Harry privately." Ron nodded and ambled off in the direction of the Hospital Wing, presumably to see how Hermione was doing. Lupin turned back to Harry. "Albus has lent me the use of a small office while I am here," he told him. "Come, I'll show you a few shortcuts."

Mr. Lupin led Harry behind a tapestry and up a stairwell that acted like an escalator from the muggle world. Out from behind a portrait of Selwyn Gaunt on the eighth floor and down a floor to the seventh, where he paced thrice in front of a blank wall, causing a slide down to the first floor to appear. Across a single corridor into the office, which had a small bed in the corner and a few amenities as well as a pair of comfy chairs across from the fireplace. It had only taken a few minutes.

"Beg pardon," Harry said, "But was that really faster than just going down two stories and moving wherever?"

Lupin nodded. "Hogwarts can be… temperamental, I suppose. It doesn't always let you get where you want to by the main corridors. Shortcuts like that are much more reliable; things like the day of the week and the phase of the moon can affect it," he explained. "You'll get the hang of it eventually. In this case, going here from where we were would've required going up to the ninth floor, then down to the second sub-basement, before we could get here. The slide on the seventh floor can lead to wherever you like below it, though, as long as there's no room there already."

"Handy," Harry said, impressed. "Anyway, I didn't get to say it earlier, but…" he stuck out a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin."

Lupin smiled wanly as he shook the boy's hand; it looked like he hadn't smiled in years. "Please, call me Remus. I don't like the sound of 'Mr. Lupin'. Far too formal, especially for the son of my oldest friend."

Harry cocked his head to the side and tried it out. "Remus... I guess that works. Alright then. Remus."

Remus leaned back in his chair, absently twirling his wand between his fingers. "So. Where shall we begin?"

"I'd like to hear about you. If all goes well, I hope that you'll be able to become my guardian and take me from the Dursleys. But obviously I need to know more about you first."

Remus sighed. "I wish I could, Harry, but there are reasons that I can't. I can't look after any child, in fact, much as I'd like to. But... are your relatives really that bad?"

Now Harry returned the scarred man's wan smile. "I'd rather not refer to them as my family."

Lupin shuddered; it was clear that Harry meant what he said. "Well, I can certainly tell you about myself if you like. Would you prefer my recent life, or my days at Hogwarts?"

"When you were at Hogwarts," Harry said promptly. "Although I am curious about why you were in America."

Remus sighed. "Dumbledore didn't want me near you. He thought that you were safe at your relatives' house and was afraid I'd take you, and damned be the consequences. From what I gather," he added, "I probably would've. But I've had time to cool off. I think there are some sort of wards tied to your mother's blood, something strong which can't be replicated."

Harry nodded slowly. "I suppose that makes sense. I know there were people who served Vold- sorry, You-Know-Who-"

"Voldemort," Remus said levelly. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself." It sounded as though he was quoting someone.

Harry considered this for a moment, and nodded in agreement. "Voldemort, then. Not everyone who served him was caught, and some of them might want to hurt me."

Lupin shrugged. "Most are probably too wary to do it directly, but they could engineer something. In any case, he sent me to America, and I became an Auror for the American ministry."

"Ah, so that's where you became a specialist in Dark creatures," Harry guessed.

Remus shook his head. "I was hired _as_ a specialist in Dark creatures," he said quietly. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "A member of my family became a werewolf, you see," he told Harry. "My… my younger brother. I've spent much of my life searching for a cure for the condition, and I always meet him during the full moon to help contain him." Lupin sighed. "I've made no success. Thankfully there is the wolfsbane potion now, but still."

Harry nodded. "I can understand that, I suppose," he said. "Is that why you're not allowed to have kids?"

Lupin looked away. "I'd rather not discuss it," he said. "It's a painful subject for me. I shouldn't have brought it up."

Harry was silent for a minute or so before he changed the subject to a less painful one. "What's the United States like compared to Britain?" he asked.

Lupin smiled. "Well," he began, "there are significant cultural differences. Something you need to understand is that very few wizards went to the New World along with the Muggles. There were some, of course, a few Dark wizards who wanted freedom and a Light family or two that wanted to keep an eye on them. The original plan, I understand, was to make a few conclaves that muggleborns could come to, three or four across the whole continent. But the vast majority of wizards in America are muggleborn or descended from muggleborns within a few generations, and they still felt connected to the muggle world, and stay wide-spread." Harry nodded, and Remus continued. "So, with the massive influx of muggleborns, the society is much closer connected to the muggle one. While here in Britain we're either ahead of or behind the times–"

"In what ways?" Harry interrupted. "Sorry," he added when Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"No, no problem. But since you ask; the prison system in Wizarding Britain is _horrific_," Remus snarled. "The prisoners in Azkaban have no rights; they get food only once a day, just a small bowl of thin gruel; they have no visitation rights, and any visits are at the pleasure of the warden. They are subjected to the power of the Dementors day and night, with no rest or break from it. The justification given is that it keeps anyone from escaping, and it's true that no-one has ever escaped from Azkaban. But there's another prison, Nurmengard. It was built by Grindlewald, to be inescapable without requiring the use of Dementors, creatures Darker than even he wanted to associated with." During his speech, Remus spun his wand through his fingers faster and faster, until light began to shine from it as though leaking from the force of the turning. "Grindlewald is confined along with his compatriots in his own prison, and has been for forty years. Even he, who enchanted the tower personally and knows the spells better than any other, cannot escape from it. _But we use Dementors!"_

Lupin paused and stopped spinning his wand, taking several deep breathes, before he continued. "There are many wizarding prisons across America, none with Dementors. The muggleborn population doesn't stand for it. Instead, they are currently patterned after Nurmengard, and there have been no escapes since that was accomplished. This is," he added, "another sore point for me."

Harry quickly moved the conversation on. "And we're ahead of the times in other ways?"

Remus nodded. "The wizarding world has fewer prejudices than the muggle world," he explained. "Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that we have different ones. Muggles only recently got over believing that gender or skin color matter, and are still coming to the realization that it doesn't matter if you're homosexual. Wizarding society hasn't had those problems for years. We have the muggleborn issue, and Dark and Light magics, instead."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "And America is closer to muggle society as far as that goes?"

Lupin nodded. "They're getting over it a little ahead of the muggles," he said, "thanks to the influence of purebloods. But they still have those prejudices rather than muggleborn controversy. And the American Ministry is more liberal than Britain's Ministry as far as Dark magic goes; fewer spells, objects, and potions are defined as Dark, and there are only three Dark creatures; Dementors, Lethifolds, and basilisks. All rare in America, of course."

Harry tried to twirl his own wand in imitation of Remus, but failed. "So how did you become an Auror?" he asked. "And will you try and enter the Ministry now that you're back in Britain?"

"Well, Fawkes took me to America," Lupin explained. "That's the headmaster's familiar, a phoenix, by the way. So I arrived there immediately, for free, but I wasn't able to take anything with me. I need to find a job. And of course I registered with their Ministry. And I thought 'well, I am qualified', so I asked about the possibility of being hired as an auror. I was hired as a consultant for Dark creatures and became a field specialist a year or so later. I would plan to enter the Ministry here, but… enough about me, Harry. Let's talk about you."

Harry swallowed. He really didn't want to talk about the Dursleys, whom he knew that Remus would turn the conversation to; how could he not, knowing that Harry refused to acknowledge their relationship? "Not much to tell, really," he said, looking away from Remus' eyes. "I was an average student, and did nothing interesting until Hagrid came."

"Harry." Lupin's tone forced Harry to turn back, the Auror's amber eyes boring into Harry' green ones. "You said that you didn't want to call the Dursley's your relatives. Why? What did they do to you?"

**A/N: And… cliffhanger. I apologize for using this chapter as a sort of an infodump for wizarding societies in HtC.**


	13. Chapter 13: Lecture with a Spider

**A/N: I declare this fic to be a full AU, based on an increasing amount of information unsupported by canon and multiple differences in characterization. It is a _minor_ AU, and I will _try_ to stick close to canon; no dead characters will reappear, nothing completely, utterly, explicitly _denied_ by canon; but I will have things entirely unsupported and perhaps even implied _against_. So please, don't flame me about characters having no reason to act differently; they aren't quite the same anymore.**

**Also, I'm looking for a beta for this story and my others, preferably one with good knowledge of canon and the ability to brit-pick for me.**

Harry's throat locked up and he hesitated. Sure, the Dursleys had treated him terribly; but Remus had an incredibly _intense_ look on his face, and Harry felt like if he told the Auror what they had done then, he wouldn't tell the Ministry; he would rip them apart with his bare hands. No-one deserved that. Yes, the Dursleys had starved him, isolated him, kept him in a cupboard, verbally abused him, allowed Dudley's and his friends to beat him up, made it clear that they didn't love him, actually _hated_ him, but they hadn't done everything they could've. Vernon had never actually hit… no, he had. They hadn't… well, actually…

Okay, so Harry couldn't think of _anything_ the Dursleys hadn't done to him to hurt him. But he didn't want them _dead._

"Nothing," he said firmly, still unable to look Lupin in the eye. "They just… didn't love me. They didn't hide that, and…"

"Do you have friends back there? From school?"

"…not really. Dudley…"

"Harry." Remus' voice was firm, but kind, drawing Harry's eyes back to his. "Tell me the truth, please."

Harry blinked. "I… I'm getting a headache. May I go see Madam Pomfrey, please?"

Lupin sighed. "You can trust me, Harry. But go ahead."

The next day, Harry was surprised to find Remus sitting behind Professor Quirrell's desk. The auror was casually watching the doorway, ticking off something on a piece of paper as each person entered. Quirrell was nowhere to be seen, but there was a large rattling cage next to the desk, covered with a thick blanket that muffled all noise from within.

"Good morning, Harry," Remus said, nodding to him. "Take a seat, please…"

"Why's Mr. Lupin here?" Ron whispered to Harry as they sat near the rear of the classroom.

"I dunno," Harry whispered back as a Ravenclaw girl sat in front of them.

A few minutes later, the class was full, everyone whispering about the missing professor and his replacement. Remus snapped his fingers, and in a wave from him, people stopped talking and turned to look at him, attentive and looking rather surprised. Harry realized why as soon as the wave reached him and Ron; a tingling sensation went through him, especially around the back of the eyes, making his hair stand on end and forcibly attracting his attention to the front. Shortly afterwards, the wave of magic returned to Lupin, sending shivers up Harry's spine and making Ron sneeze. Remus cocked his head to the side as the magical wave reached him again, and then smiled.

"Good morning." His voice seemed to reverberate, echoing from around the room so that it seemed that his quiet voice came from right behind Harry; and, presumably, everyone else as well. "My name is Remus Lupin. You may have seen me at the Head Table last night. I'm visiting, and the Headmaster kindly arranged for me a give a guest lecture in Defense class. Before we get to the lecture, does anyone have any questions?" Seamus raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Finnegan?"

"Are you a professor too?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, though I've considered it occasionally. I've spent the last ten years or so working as an Auror for the American Ministry of Magic, though, and I have a Mastery in Defense. Let's see... Miss Brown?"

Lavender Brown blushed. "How did you get the scars?"

Lupin brought his hand up to trace gently over the scars on his cheek. "Good eye, Miss Brown, most people don't notice them from that distance. I had a run-in with a werewolf, about five years back; he didn't bite me, but got a few swipes in. Anyone else? Mr. Finch-Fletchly?"

"How do you know our names, and what was that thing when you snapped his fingers?"

Lupin smiled widely. "That's one of the things I'll be talking about today. Basically it was an attention-getting spell, one that's very useful in Auror work, but I also included an element of information-gathering to snatch your names from the tags on your robes. I don't have time to get to know you normally, so this is faster. Any other questions? No? Then I'll begin.

"Now, you all know that you're here to learn magic. Can anyone tell me exactly what magic _is,_ though?" There were a few murmurs around the room, but no-one raised their hands. "Nothing? Alright then. Magic is many things, because things called magic can be better called differently. I'll make a few distinctions, though; magic is energy, wizards have the ability to use it, and spells are specific ways of focusing that energy.

"In other words, magic itself simply floats around the world; its stronger in some areas than others, of course. It's very strong around Hogwarts, as I'm sure some of you have noticed, and is generally weaker in Muggle cities. But this mostly-random magic doesn't really do anything. It interferes with some Muggle technology, and sometimes affects animals, but a Muggle wouldn't notice it.

"However, a wizard (or a witch) can affect this floating magic. Can anyone tell me how? Mr… Longbottom, why don't you hazard a guess?"

Neville looked around nervously and gulped. "Uh. With our wands?"

Lupin paused for a moment before nodding. "In a way. We do channel the magic through our wands, but it's possible for a skilled wizard to do without for small things; the attention getting spell I started with, for example. A wizard controls magic with his _mind_. The incantation helps focus your thoughts, and the wand motion channels the magic and fixes it into a spell. So what happens when you cast wandlessly? Mr. Weasley, what do you think?"

Ron furrowed his brow. "Um… it's not a spell, is it? It's just the magic?"

"Mr. Weasley is quite right," Remus agreed. "Casting wandlessly means that you can't use a normal spell and have to focus the magic only with your mind. It's more difficult, but you can do things that way even if you don't know a spell for it. But I don't want _any_ of you trying it on your own, understand?" the auror warned. "Wandless magic takes a lot of willpower and experience with normal magic, which you don't have yet." The class nodded, the importance of this being effectively pressed into them by Remus' serious face. After a moment he smiled again. "But let's move on from that for a moment. Given what I've just told you about magic, what else ought to be possible?"

Harry considered this for a moment before raising his hand. "Casting silently?"

"Good, Mr. Potter. It's possible to cast without an incantation by subvocalizing. This also requires willpower and experience, but it's easier than wandless magic, which very few ever master. Silent casting is usually taught in N.E.W.T. level classes."

Remus paused for a moment and took a sip of water. "All right, that's the first of my three topics for you done in good time. The next thing I have for you is about kinds of spells. Who can list the five varieties of spells as defined in the _Standard Book of Spells? _Miss Patil?"

Parvati Patil, face surprisingly focused, spoke up. "Jinxes, hexes, curses, charms, and transfigurations."

"Exactly. Does anyone know what the distinctions are? Let's take jinxes, hexes, and curses as a group for a moment. What's the definition of a transfiguration?"

"Something that changes the shape and qualities of an object," Neville said hesitantly.

"Well done, Mr. Longbottom. That's right. I don't think that Professor McGonagall will have gone that far into the theory yet, but a transfiguration doesn't actually change the essential part of an object. If you transform a stone into a loaf of bread, you can't eat it, because it's actually a stone. That's the reason for the Exceptions to Gamp's Principles of Elemental Transfiguration, if any of you have heard of those yet. Now, what's the difference between a hex and a charm? There are some very similar ones, after all. For example, _diffindo_ is a cutting charm, but _scinder_ is a cutting _hex_."

Again, a murmur, and no answer. Harry wracked his brain, but couldn't think of anything beyond uses hexes on people and charms on things.

"No-one? Alright then, I'll tell you. A charm doesn't work on living things, and a jinx or hex won't work on a non-living thing. _Diffindo_ will cut through paper, or even solid steel if you put enough strength into it, but it can't even penetrate skin. _Scinder _will give you a papercut, but won't even slice through a tissue."

Harry smacked his forehead. He had thought that a moment ago, why hadn't he said anything? "Wait, sir!" he called. "You said that jinxes and hexes don't work on objects. What about curses?"

Lupin sighed. "Curses are stronger than hexes," he said calmly. "They can have an effect on object, though not always the same as it would have on a person. The killing curse, as an example, causes objects, including conjured creatures, to dissolve into dust or shatter like glass. Let's move onto the distinction between curses, hexes, and jinxes. We're halfway through, so I'll just tell you.

"A jinx will wear off on its own, usually within an hour but sometimes taking up to a day. For example, the jelly-legs jinx, which wears off after two hours. Also, in general, they're essentially harmless. A hex is usually more harmful, and will take longer to wear off. Sometimes they only wear off because of the body itself; _scinder_, which I mentioned earlier, doesn't wear off until the cut heals on its own. And a curse has the potential to permanent or fatal."

Remus looked around the room. "Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. Who came name an exception to these definitions?"

Dean Thomas raised a hand. "I heard one of the Weasley twins talking about using a banishing charm on Mrs. Norris."

Lupin nodded. "That's one of them. The banishing charm, which is a fourth year spell, also works on living things, though not as well. Anyone else?" A third time, no-one answered. "Alright, this one is an interesting exception. The bubble-headed charm is one that doesn't work on things at all, only on people."

Neville raised a trembling hand and pointed at the cage, which was rattling very loudly. "Sir, w-what's that?"

Remus glanced at it. "Oh, nothing much," he said casually. "I just caught an acromantula, and I thought you might like to see."

At once, everyone but Harry and the muggleborns scooted backwards in their desks, trying to get away from the cage. "Professor," asked Harry, "what's an acromantula?"

"I'm not a professor, Mr. Potter," Lupin said calmly, unsurprised by the class's reaction to his announcement. "And an acromantula is a kind of magical spider. They live up to fifty or sixty years and keep growing the whole time. There's a nest out in the forest, and I caught a little one, only about… oh, the size of three dinner plates laid end to end?"

Ron gulped. "That's a _little_ one?" he asked.

Remus nodded. "Hagrid tells me that the king of the hive out there is closer to the size of an elephant. This one is maybe a year or two old. Don't worry, the cage is quite secure."

Ron stood from out of his desk and marched all the way to the back of the room. "No offense, sir," he called. "I don't like big spiders."

"Quite understandable," Lupin said agreeably, and flicked his wand, vanishing the blanket and revealing the spider.

It was at least three feet with its legs spread-eagled, and was slavering as it strained at the cage. With the muffling blanket gone they could hear its pincers clicking together as it gripped the bars in two legs and tried to pull them apart. Ron promptly fainted dead away.

"The reason I have this little beastie for you," Lupin called over the spider's clicking, "is to demonstrate a spell that a wizard should know by the time they graduate. It's not easy and takes a good bit out of you, but it will take down any living creature in a single shot. It's illegal to use on a person, but casting it on an animal, while frowned upon, is allowed. You shouldn't use it unless you have no other recourse," Remus warned the class. "If you think you can take down a creature alive in any other fashion, you should. In ten years of hunting down dangerous magical creatures in America, I've only had to use it twice."

The class was incredibly attentive (except for Ron), leaning in to watch and Lupin turned towards the acromantula. The auror shifted his stance slightly, flicked his wand thrice, brought it down toward the beast, and spoke two words.

"_Avada Kedavra."_


	14. Author's Note: Beginning a Rewrite

**A/N: Sorry about leaving you all with such a cliffhanger while I do this, but it needs to be done and there's no point in putting it off. I'm beginning to rewrite this entire story, every chapter. The same events will happen, but I'm not going to go through all the little changes like I did at the beginning. I'll put up a chapter every three days or so, possibly faster but no slower, until I get to the point where I can do the rest of them, up to chapter 13, at once. At that point, I'll delete all the chapters of this story except the first, which I'll replace with a pointer to the new story. Additionally, PLEASE someone PM me about betaing for me, because it's something that I really need help with. With that, I leave you with a link to the upcoming rewrite, which will be a sort of combination of this and Filius Flitwick, Head of Gryffindor, which is also going away:**

** s/8276119/1/Harry_Potter_and_the_Draught_of_Life**


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